


Buttercup

by MobMode



Series: A Father, a Daughter, and a Launchpad [1]
Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon 2018), DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pining, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-08-09 22:11:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20124664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MobMode/pseuds/MobMode
Summary: Launchpad is a pretty big guy, and it drives Drake crazy.





	Buttercup

**Author's Note:**

> These two have been my hyperfixation for the past couple of weeks so I just had to write smth for them! Hope you enjoy, comments and kudos appreciated, I haven't written in a while so any constructive criticism is great, too!

The first thing he noticed about the friendly stranger standing in line with him was just how big he was. His warm hand resting on his shoulder so easily, so carefree, unaware of how that hand almost covered his entire shoulder and how his smooth voice calmed his frazzled nerves almost instantly. That hand stays on his shoulder, comforting him as he got closer and closer to the man that he felt embodied the character that helped him out so much growing up. Something the taller duck says catches his attention though, confusing him.

“Wait, if you’ve seen him so many times how come you’ve never talked to him?”

“Next!”

He doesn’t get his answer as he is promptly fainted on by the _ much _larger man, now properly aware of just how big he is as he is crushed beneath him.

“This is why…” says the little duckling accompanying the stranger, his son maybe?

After some awkward pushing and shoving, Drake manages to get out from under the other duck, fighting back the blush that wants to take over his face as he dusts himself off.

“So he does this often?” he huffs, tilting his head as he stares at the prone duck, still out like a light. The blue duckling nods, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes, “Always happens whenever he tries to meet this guy, whoever he is…” he sighs, and before Drake can correct him with an hour long explanation of the man, the myth, the legend that is Jim Starling, he hears him yelling at his phone.

Deciding he should just get it over with, get his autograph and tell him about the movie being filmed for _ his _character, he steps forward, clearing his throat. Unfortunately, their short, practically nonexistent conversation is disappointing to say the least, but he tries not to let it get him down. Maybe he was just having a bad day? He’d probably be pretty upset too if this is what his lucrative acting career turned into.

He can’t give it much more thought when he is suddenly on the floor once again, his childhood idol on top of him, and then the fainting stranger is added to the pile.

He doesn’t think much of the stranger from the signing, except that he was maybe the most handsome duck he’d ever seen, and he only allows himself to be a little sad that they’ll never see each other again until he... sees him again?

He’s in a conference room with his boss and his boss’s boss and- Jim Starling?! Their second “conversation” goes over about as well as the first, and he has to try his very best not to go hide in his trailer and cry over the fact that his hero was nothing like he’d hoped.

When he runs into the handsome stranger once again, three times in one day, something inside his chest tells him it can’t just be coincidence. The only problem is that he’s in his trailer, which was locked, and now he’s being locked inside with him. Wait what-

“Definitely not locking you in here to sabotage your movie… buddy,”

The ensuing fight ends up feeling pretty one sided, with the stranger playing defense and not really taking any swings at him, just keeping him at bay and constantly apologizing. He also finds he knows quite a lot about Darkwing Duck, which makes sense thanks to his inclination to fainting at just the mention of Jim Starling. Of the few times the stranger does go at him, he doesn’t expect a big arm to wind it’s way around his waist, tossing him up into the air like he weighed nothing and catching him, both hands wrapping almost completely around his chest.

He allows himself a moment to feel flustered at the easy strength he displayed, only a little more focused on his complete run of Darkwing Duck comics. He is suddenly dropped back to the floor and sits there for a second, contemplating what is shaping up to be a very strange day, and the way his feathers burn wherever the stranger happened to touch him.

He finds out his name is Launchpad, which is definitely… interesting, and all of their fighting is forgotten over Darkwing Duck figures and the sinister plot of Hot Couture.

  
  


Drake can’t help the fond smile pulling at his beak while Launchpad leads him by his hand somewhere, covering his eyes with the other to keep from seeing the “big birthday surprise” Launchpad supposedly had for him.

“Just where are you taking me?” he snickers, thankful one of his hands are hiding his face and the embarrassing flush that covers it just from holding his friend’s hand.

“Shh, it’s a surprise!” Launchpad scolds him, squeezing his hand as he pulled him along, making him snort. “You dork, how much longer?” Drake asks, still smiling until Launchpad comes to a stand still, letting go of his hand and coming up behind him to rest his hands on his shoulders.

“Ok, open your eyes now!”

Peeking through his fingertips at first, Drake almost screams when he catches those first glimpses of his birthday surprise. He clenches his eyes shut tighter, refusing to believe it.

“You did not!” he shouts, his hands shooting up to cover his mouth and keep him from screaming anymore than he already wants to.

“I did!” Launchpad chuckles, hands sliding from his shoulders down his arms to gently push his hands away from his mouth. He then proceeds to wrap his arms around his chest and lifts him up into a tight hug from behind, forcing him to open his eyes and take in the gift that he surely did not deserve.

“Happy Birthday, Drake!” 

Standing before him, proudly gleaming in the lights of what looked like the McDuck manor air hangar, was _ the _Thunderquack. Drake wriggles out of Launchpad’s arms to sprint closer to the marvelous jet, a jumbled stream of words and shouts leaving his beak as he took it all in, running all around it in a frenzy. When he feels like he’s run around it ten times and seen every last detail, he bolts back over to Launchpad, who’s just been watching him with unrestrained glee.

Grabbing at the arms crossed over his chest, Drake leans up on his tiptoes to almost shout in his friend’s face.

“THIS IS FOR ME?!”

Launchpad grabs him by the arms and lifts him up so they’re eye to eye, shaking him lightly.

“Can’t be Darkwing Duck without the Thunderquack can ya?” he says, and his smile is so warm and he’s so amazing, and Drake wants nothing more than to kiss this duck silly. He settles for leaping into his arms and wrapping him in a big hug, nuzzling into his neck and preening the feathers there back into place when he realizes he’s messed them up. When he pulls back, Launchpad’s face is noticeably red, and he can no longer resist the urge to press a quick kiss to his cheek (friends do that all the time… don’t they?).

Slipping back out of the pilot’s arms, Drake bounces up and down in front of him.

“Can I see the inside?” he asks, hands clasped together, partly to keep from flapping them at a hundred miles a minute and partly to give himself something to hold.

Launchpad snaps out of it, clearing his throat and stumbling through his words, “Uh- yeah! Yeah of- of course, Drake!” he laughs a little too loud, rubbing at the back of his neck.

He runs back and forth between the open hatch in the bottom of the Thunderquack and Launchpad, trying to pull him along so he could hurry up.

“Easy, easy, Drake! I gotta help you up since I didn’t have enough time to install a ladder.”

Drake sways impatiently under the hatch, waiting for Launchpad to come over and give him a leg up, when he is suddenly grabbed around the waist and lifted up. He can’t even focus on the interior of the coolest birthday gift ever, the ease with which Launchpad lifts him up and the electrifying sensation of his fingers digging into his feathers effectively shutting him down.

“Er, Drake? Everything alright up there? Aw man, don’t tell me the console fell apart again!” Launchpad groans below him, about to pull him back down when his brain catches up with everything and he quickly grabs the edge of the hatch, hoisting himself up.

“N-No, Launchpad it’s perfect! It- It was just so perfect I couldn’t think for a second!” he half lies, not ready to admit his brain stopped working for a second just because he was lifted up by the most amazing duck in Duckburg. Looking around the inside he finds it’s not that much of a lie, it really does look perfect, every last button and switch in place, a picture perfect replica. 

Launchpad follows up after him, watching as he marvels at all of the buttons, coming to a stop before one of the two seats installed. He looks up at Launchpad with wide eyes, “May I?” he whispers, tracing his fingers over the soft leather of the armrest.

“You may! It’s yours buddy,” Launchpad laughs, putting a hand on his shoulder. Drake takes a moment to look up at him and that easy smile, shaking his head.

“Yeah but you made it! Just because you’re gifting it to me doesn’t mean it’s only mine, it’s ours! For Darkwing Duck and his partner.” he reaches up to pat the hand resting on his shoulder. Launchpad smiles even wider at him, which he didn’t think was possible, and swoops down to gather him into a hug.

“I’m really your partner?” Launchpad asks, his face buried in Drake’s chest. Drake rolls his eyes, unable to think of a reality where Launchpad McQuack isn’t his partner and best friend.

“Are you crazy? Of course you are! You’ve been helping me out on patrol for the past month, how could you not be my partner?” he laughs, petting a hand through his soft red hair. Launchpad squeezes him a little tighter before setting him down, “Thank you, Drake. That really means a lot to hear you say that,” he says, slightly bashful.

“Anything for my partner, partner.” Drake smiles, cuffing the pilot’s arm then leaning forward to hug him himself.

  
  


It’s another Darkwing Duck marathon weekend at Launchpad’s place, and Drake is curled up on his couch with a blanket and a bowl of popcorn between them, the closest thing he could get to heaven on Earth. Launchpad’s arm is sprawled out over the backrest behind him, and he wishes he would just wrap his arm around his shoulders and pull him closer to his side. Not that he’s that far from the bigger duck anyways, the bowl of popcorn the only thing keeping them from touching.

Launchpad laughs at something Darkwing says, following it up by quoting the next line perfectly. Drake looks over at him with a fond smile, happy to have found someone with the same special interest as he. All is calm between the pair, settling into the quiet ease that can only come with lots of time spent together, and both would agree when asked if they felt like they knew each other their whole lives.

The relative peace and quiet is broken when the door leading into the McDuck manor bursts open, and Drake only has enough time to look over and see Dewey (his rival for Launchpad’s number one best friend spot) run in holding a toy dart gun at the ready, before an arm is wrapped about his waist and he’s pulled backwards over the couch to land on the other side, safe from the coming onslaught of foam bullets.

Once his heart settles and the dizziness fades, Drake’s eyes widen when he sees the position they’ve landed in. He’s practically sitting on Launchpad’s lap, that broad chest at his back and their legs a tangled mess, but the pilot is quick to lift him up and off, setting him to the side carefully. His ears don’t quite catch the stammering apology Launchpad tries to give, looking up to find his cheek feathers flushed, and he’s sure he’s not faring any better. Anytime Launchpad shows off his impressive strength he has to take a second to reboot his thoughts, and it doesn’t help that he just had to land on his lap, like he hasn’t been imagining sitting there anytime they’re together.

“Ah sorry, Drake. I forgot Dewey and I had this bet going on… I have to take him to Funso’s if he can catch me by surprise and get me out of his little game.” Launchpad explains, rubbing at the back of his neck nervously. Drake chuckles as he smiles up at him, patting his chest, “It’s alright, Launchpad. Just surprised me is all.” He catches sight of another toy dart gun hidden under the couch, grabbing it and looking up to give his friend a determined smile. 

“Lets get dangerous!” he declares, shooting up from the couch with a battle cry, taking aim at the blue triplet.

The battle wages on for a little bit until Drake feels a foam dart _ plink _him in the chest, and he collapses to the ground dramatically, pretending to gasp and choke on imaginary blood. Launchpad falls to his knees beside him, clutching his small hand in his own huge one.

“No! Drake hold on, buddy!” he cries, and Drake struggles to keep his laughter at bay, trying to stay in character. He reaches up a shaky hand to grab Launchpad’s cheek, coughing weakly, “It’s too late for me now… go on… without me…” he rasps, making a big show of taking his final breaths of air before flopping his head to the side and sticking his tongue out in the universal sign of ‘I’m dead now’ in little kid acting. Launchpad pretends to sob into his chest, and Drake can’t hold back his small giggle at Launchpad’s tendency to go over the top.

“I will avenge you, my dearest friend!” Launchpad swears, taking the toy gun and getting back into battle. Drake listens to the sounds of foam darts hitting everything but their target until he hears Dewey cry out. Reanimating from his very well acted death, Drake peeks over the couch to find Dewey holding onto his bicep as if he were shot, an overdramatic grimace of pain pulling at his beak. 

Launchpad stands over him, toy gun poised to kill, “You fought valiantly young Dewey… better luck next time.” he says in a gritty voice, glaring at the duckling before smiling and dropping the gun in favor of picking him up and tossing him into the air. Drake watches him throw Dewey and catch him again and again, resting his chin on his crossed arms and smiling fondly at the pair. He admires how good Launchpad is with kids, not just Dewey but any of the multitude of children that find themselves making mischief in the McDuck mansion, and he tries to ignore the ache in his chest that he gets from watching him. Launchpad spots him watching them from behind the couch and gasps, setting Dewey down and running over to pull him into his arms and spin him around in a tight hug. 

“You’re alive!” he says triumphantly, and Drake bursts into laughter, snorting when Launchpad nestles into his neck.

“Put me down you dork!” Drake admonishes but it’s got no real bite to it, smiling at Launchpad when he pulls back so they’re face to face. There's a moment where everything feels fuzzy and warm, and the bright smile Launchpad gifts him only makes his stomach flip more.

“Ahem…”

Dewey coughs, breaking the moment between them as they both almost snap their necks turning to the duckling they forgot was there, raising his brow at them suspiciously. Launchpad puts him down immediately, clearing his throat and coughing awkwardly, and Drake misses the contact instantly.

“Whoa, Launchpad I’ve never seen your place this clean before! Did you do all this just cause Drake was comin-” Dewey is cut off as Launchpad plants his hand over his mouth, laughing overly loud while pushing him back towards the manor door.

Drake just smiles to himself and shakes his head, that ache in his chest coming back in full force.

  
  


“-rkwing! Darkwing! DW wake up!”

Drake comes back to consciousness to find Launchpad’s concerned expression staring back at him, incredibly close. He has no time to feel flustered as his double vision slowly rights itself, groaning at the throbbing pain in his temple, reaching a hand up and wincing when it comes back bloody.

“Launchpad…?” he says softly, weakly, and he hates the way his heart flutters at the fond smile his partner gives him as answer. “Wha… what happen…?” he mumbles intelligently, looking around as fast as his aching head will let him, taking note of the flames around them and the wooden beam resting on top of Launchpad’s straining shoulders.

The pilot’s strong arms are caging him in as he braces against the concrete wall he was currently resting against, holding up the beam that he can only assume went crashing down with the explosion - right there was an explosion, who were they fighting again? - that caused this whole mess.

“Launchpad! A-Are you alright?!” he shouts, trying to sit up as he finally came back to his senses, his head screaming at him to stop moving but his worry for his partner put any pain he might have been feeling on the back burner.

“Don’t worry… about me, DW! Nothing better than a… a good lift…” he pants, and Drake notices his arms are beginning to shake, and he knows this really isn’t the best time to be admiring them, but the way his arms bulge in his pilot’s jacket makes his cheeks flush hotter than the fire around them.

“Go on! Get out of here! Some of those thieves got away!” Launchpad shouts over the roar of the flames, sweat dripping from his feathers as he began to struggle to support the beam.

“What?! No, I am _ not _leaving you here!” Darkwing yells back, groaning as his temple twinges with a sharp pain. He looks around and sees his gas gun is nowhere to be found, cursing aloud and feeling more panicked by the second. Pounding his fist on the ground, he curses again and looks up at Launchpad, who gives him a sad smile.

“Go Drake, I’ll… I’ll be fine,” he grits out.

“NO!” Drake sobs, feeling tears collecting in his eyes. He forces himself to get up with a groan, shouting when he puts pressure on his left foot, cursing his luck as he’s sure it was sprained at best or broken at worst. Limping closer to Launchpad, he reaches out to cup his face in his hands.

“You’re my partner, I’m not leaving without you.”

Launchpad’s eyes narrow at Darkwing, a wild and determined glint in his eyes, and Drake watches slack jawed at what follows. Gritting his teeth and reaching one arm up to support the beam, then the other, Launchpad lets out a mighty roar, staggering for only a moment then thrusting his arms up and back, hefting the beam off his back and onto the floor behind him. Launchpad pants as he stares down at Drake before bending down and picking him up, cradling him in his arms bridal style.

“Let’s get out of here, partner.” he says, using that same soft voice he used when he told Drake he could be Darkwing Duck

The following moments are a blur as Launchpad maneuvers them out of the burning building, finding the stairs that led up to the roof where they had parked the Thunderquack. There they find a few goons that had survived the explosion and who were in the process of trying to steal said Thunderquack. Launchpad sets him down with a quick, “Be right back!” tossed over his shoulder as he sets off to defeat them.

Darkwing watches as Launchpad takes care of the thieves, wanting to get up and help but his ankle protests just at the thought so he supposes he’ll sit this one out. It was like he was watching everything in slow motion and with a rosy filter, feeling a bit faint at the display of raw power from one Mr. McQuack (or maybe that was just his concussion acting up).

  
  


“It sucks you’ll be so far away now… how are we supposed to have our Darkwing Duck marathons now?” Launchpad whines, about to turn his head to look at Drake but he catches his chin with his fingers to keep his eyes on the road, an automatic habit by now. 

“Launchpad, it’s only an hour drive-” he begins, trying to soothe him but Launchpad cuts him off.

“Exactly! That’s two Darkwing episodes we could be watching in that time!” he cries, and Drake shakes his head fondly.

“It’ll be fine, LP. Come on, you know how important this move is! I’ll be closer to the crime in St. Canard if I’m living there. Think of all the extra crimes I could be stopping without having to go from Duckburg on the Ratcatcher every night,” he explains, sighing as they’ve had this conversation before.

“Besides, we’ll take turns visiting each other! How could I forget about my best friend just cause he’s an hour away?” he reassures him, reaching out to rub his shoulder. Launchpad just goes silent, a glum expression on his face and Drake frowns as well. Things have been… tense between them since he told him he was going to be moving, and he wishes he knew exactly what to say to make sure Launchpad knew this wasn’t going to be changing things that drastically for their friendship.

The rest of the drive is quiet until they get to his new apartment complex. It’s nothing fancy compared to his old place in Duckburg, his paychecks from S.H.U.S.H. affording him an alright place. Once they get there it’s hard to chat while moving all of his boxes from the van, and he is endlessly thankful to have Launchpad for a friend, if not for all the other ways in which he was amazing, then his ability to lift five boxes at once with ease was definitely a plus. He almost fumbles more boxes than he’s proud to admit from getting distracted watching Launchpad work without his signature jacket, arms out for him to enjoy.

He doesn’t expect Launchpad to also help him start unpacking, and he tries not to let the domestic fantasy playing out in his head take over as he watches him put stuff away around the apartment. Not after too long, almost everything is unpacked, and Drake decides that Launchpad has helped enough and they both deserve a break. He corners Launchpad in the kitchen as he’s putting away plates, tapping him on the shoulder to have him turn around.

“Have time for a couple of episodes?” he asks, pulling his box set of season one out from behind his back, giving him the best puppy dog eyes he could. Launchpad almost opens his beak to decline when a peal of thunder shatters the silence between them, and the rain outside sounds less than friendly.

“You shouldn’t be driving out in that, stay a little while…” Drake pleads, stepping a bit closer and gazing up at him earnestly. Launchpad closes his beak and nods, his smile small and restrained in a way he’s never seen.

Settled on the couch with a blanket draped over their laps, Drake is thankful S.H.U.S.H. has given him the day off for moving, the exhaustion catching up to him and making his eyelids droop lower and lower with every episode until he’s out by episode four. When he wakes up, it’s to Launchpad shaking his arm gently, and he sits up slowly to find he’s been napping curled up in his best friend’s side, one big arm surrounding his shoulders and he’s never felt warmer.

“Oh… sorry, LP,” he yawns, stretching out, “I must have been tired. What time is-”

“Midnight, I should get going.” Launchpad interrupts, getting up and turning the tv off before he steps to the door. Drake sits in the dark, suddenly feeling very cold. When he realizes Launchpad is about to leave without even saying goodbye he rushes to get up, wide awake now.

“I’ll walk you down!” he offers, going to grab the umbrella he usually keeps by his front door when he realizes he’s moved and it’s probably buried in a box somewhere. Launchpad wants to argue but Drake is out the door before he can say anything, leading him back downstairs to the parking lot.

When they get outside it’s still raining but much lighter now, sprinkling lightly. There’s some kind of anticipation building in Drake’s belly as they get closer to the moving van, and he feels like they were right on the edge of something, but one of them needed to make the final push. The illumination from the streetlight above where they parked gives everything a soft glow, and Drake tries not to think about how quiet and awkward things have been between them today as he gets ready to say goodbye. 

Things are still silent now, Launchpad walking just a bit ahead of him, letting the rain soak his hat and his bright locks. Launchpad turns around and Drake’s stomach drops to his toes, both beaks parting with words unsaid. He can tell he’s trembling but he doesn’t quite know why, he can’t really feel the rain soaking into his flannel or his feathers. There’s a tense moment where he swears the raindrops have stopped falling around them, frozen in place like the breath in his lungs. Launchpad just reaches out to squeeze his shoulder, his beak closing in a tight smile. 

“See ya soon, buddy.” he grits out, and it all feels wrong. No bruising goodbye hug, no signature Launchpad smile that makes his knees weak. Now his partner, _ his partner _, turns away and goes to open the door to the moving van.

“Wait!”

He’s holding Launchpad’s hand as hard as he can, desperate not to leave things at this because he can tell they won’t get another moment like this for a while, maybe ever again. Launchpad stiffens in his hold, other hand faltering as he reaches for the van door. He turns around slowly, expression vulnerable in a way Drake’s never seen before and it makes his chest _ ache _.

“You… you don’t have to leave right now… I- _ Please _don’t leave right now…” he forces the words to come out that he’s been keeping at bay for so long.

Launchpad takes a step forward and Drake suddenly feels terribly small in front of him, his big, broad form seemingly blotting out anything else that wasn’t this moment right here and now. He can’t look up at him and that open expression anymore, looking down at the puddle at his feet instead, letting go of Launchpad’s hand. 

Drake nearly starts at the fingers tilting his beak back up, eyes widening and cheek feathers burning red as Launchpad inched ever closer, gasping when their beaks finally, _ finally, _ meet. His eyelids flutter shut, reaching his hands up to rest on Launchpad’s chest while his partner’s hands slip down to rest on his waist. A strangled sound escapes his throat when he is abruptly lifted up and those strong arms wrap around him, holding him close and sliding their beaks together in a way that has his heart fit to explode. His hands drift up to tangle in LP’s wet hair, knocking his poor cap to the wet floor.

The kiss is everything he could have wished for and more, only frustrated with himself that they hadn’t been doing this sooner. Launchpad holds him just a little bit tighter, humming into the kiss and making Drake melt into his arms while the rain keeps pattering around them.

Drake can’t keep back the whine he makes when the taller duck pulls away, still holding him close, however. Launchpad presses their foreheads together and Drake sighs happily, leaning into the touch. 

“Drake…” Launchpad mutters, maneuvering down to bury his face in Drake’s neck, making him giggle at the slightly ticklish sensation. Threading his fingers through Launchpad’s hair, Drake coaxes his head back so he can look him in the eyes, brushing his wet hair to the side.

“I love you.” 

Launchpad’s eyes widen at the words and Drake wonders for a moment if maybe it was too early to be using those words when tears begin spilling from the pilot’s eyes. Launchpad unwinds one of his arms from around Drake’s waist to cradle his cheek, “Drake I… I love you, too. So much, I… Drake you’re…” but he cuts himself off from whatever he was trying to say to pull their beaks back together, and Drake’s stomach swoops at the passion and emotion he can feel bleeding into the kiss.

They both pull away panting, and Drake was sure that Launchpad could feel his heartbeat through his chest. Drake uses his thumb to wipe away the tears staining Launchpad’s cheek, smiling warmly at him, “Took us long enough, huh?” 

Launchpad laughs wetly, nuzzling into the hand at his cheek and turning his head to press his beak to Drake’s palm. “Mhm… too long.” he mumbles, setting Drake down but grabbing his hand to keep them connected.

“Let’s get inside, yeah?” Drake says, squeezing Launchpad’s hand and tugging him along as he starts walking back to his apartment building.


End file.
